


An attempt to meditate

by romanovaah



Series: The widow's thoughts [1]
Category: Black Widow (Comics), Black Widow (Movie 2020), Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:55:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25749271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanovaah/pseuds/romanovaah
Summary: Basically Nat trying to meditate xD (spoiler: not really her thing)Written by her P.O.V.
Series: The widow's thoughts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1867834





	An attempt to meditate

They suggested meditation to control my absolutely bad temper. And so I thought, what do I have to lose? Brought a chair in front of my window, lit some vanilla scented candles and sat down. Started breathing in and out slowly, with my eyes closed, feeling my heart beat. I had to focus on the things my body touched such as my back against the wooden chair and my feet against the cold, marble floor. I took a few deep breaths and tried to scan my body analyzing any physical discomfort - or mental. After I was done with that, I had to ask myself some questions.

Why did I wake up at 6 in the morning and sat like an idiot in front of my window...? They said it helps you calm down. Clear your head from bad thoughts - or memories. Yet I'm still here thinking about the crap I've been through. Still wondering about my distorted memories and if I'll ever be able to know more about my past. Not able to trust your own head, imagine that. Not knowing what you really experienced and what not. The Red Room training, KGB and the truths I had to pretend I didn't know. Pictures of the bodies I had brutally murdered throughout my years as an assassin - I've lost count of them - still wander around my mind, leaving me sleepless nights and nights on end. Making me lose focus of anything else that possibly matters to people, besides my job.

My heart started beating faster. Any sign of calmness I had achieved slowly fades away. Determined to succeed, however, I kept my eyes closed and tried to take some more deep breaths. I had to succeed, right?

But you cannot force peace. You have to be patient in order to achieve it over time, with plenty of sessions. But I cannot be patient anymore. I need an effective way to strangle the demons that constantly chase me whether I'm asleep or awake.

Eyes still shut.

Come on Natalia, you can do this. Maybe happy thoughts will work?

Memories of a few people that make me happy pop up inside of my head. There I can find James as well. We've been through so much, the good old days when we fought side by side, sharing the same bed with any chance we got. But as much as these memories give me just a taste of what happiness really is, worse memories sneak in to haunt me down. My beloved soldier, I tried to kill him once, my head full of false facts, I couldn't even recognize him... My brain was a toy in the hands of a psychopath who labelled himself as a doctor. Robbed me off my identity, my true feelings and desires. My sense of right and wrong - even though I never thought I was actually capable of recognising what's right and wrong anyway.

My eyes were open now and I could feel wrinkles forming on my forehead caused by my anger and thirst to take revenge of all the fools that tried to bring me down.

I shut my eyes for what seemed to be two seconds, I doubt it was more than that.

I quickly stood up, even angrier that this meditation thing wouldn't work for me, more time wasted on bullshit. Who am I trying to fool? My own self? I cannot hide behind such tactics, my brain's too sick for that. Too sick to even try controlling the snakes crawling inside of it, tightening their grasp on my memories, making them more vivid, therefore more painful. Persistence. A term in psychology that describes the tendency of the brain to remember in detail traumatic events that we desperately wish we could forget. And oh how desperately have I tried to forget. But nothing seems to work. The intrusive thoughts always find their way back to me. Nothing will ever soothe the pain sufficiently.

With a quick move of my leg, I kicked the small wooden chair against the wall, one of its legs detached from the rest of it. With one more kick, the back broke off as well.The longer it takes for me to decide I have to face the truth, the worse it is for me and the few ones surrounding me. And those few ones I have to get rid off as well. They can get in trouble just for knowing my name. But that's a whole other story.

For now, I just wanted to forget.

Heading to the kitchen, I grab a bottle of vodka, quickly unscrewing the lid. My back was against the wall as I slowly started sliding downwards, bringing my knees close to my chest.

I wrapped my lips around the bottle and started taking large sips, letting the drink burn my throat without a wince. The clock across the room was ticking loudly. As if it was mocking me for giving in to temporary pleasures that fog my brain for a while. Ticking and mocking me.  
Its needles gave away the time, 6:30.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a small piece to demonstrate my writing abilities. I will write small stories like this one and other ones with a continuous plot. Hope you like this one!


End file.
